Only a Dream
by sue-sylvester-shuffle
Summary: An innocent prank on Effie Trinket ends up allowing Haymitch to see her without the mask she wears. She decides to get him back. Her prank, although equally innocent, is not as well thought out. She ends up hurting him in a way she never thought she could. (HAYFFIE.)
1. Beautiful

"Trinket? Hey, Trinket, where are you?"

Haymitch walked down the hallway, peering nonchalantly into every door he passed. "Trinket, the interviews are about to start. Where are you?"

"Just a minute!" Effie's shrill voice was coming from one of the large bathrooms. "I'm getting ready."

"Well, you're taking forever. The Games will be done by the time you get out here."

"I said, it'll only be a minute!"

Haymitch rolled his eyes. Then, a smirk came over his face. He was in a mischievous mood, and nothing made his day like watching Effie fuss about. So he feigned a gasp. "Trinket, get out of there right now! There's a fire out here!" He banged his fist against the wall, and then gave a fake cry of pain. "Ouch… dammit!"

He heard her gasp- painfully real compared to his own bad acting, but she would believe anything after all. "What? Haymitch, are you all right!?" The door banged open and Effie ran out. At least, he _thought _it was Effie. He hardly recognized the woman standing in the doorway. Maybe it was because she looked so different, or maybe it was because his heart had stopped for a moment when he saw her.

Wavy strawberry blonde hair cascaded down over her shoulders. He couldn't decide if it looked more blonde or ginger. Her face was completely free of makeup, and she looked… _real. _More than that, she looked _beautiful. _As Haymitch stared at her, Effie's face contorted with anger. "Oh, you _awful _man!" she hissed, frowning, her lower lip jutting out. "I should have known you were lying."

"Effie… wow." was all he managed to get out.

"What?" Her cheeks grew red. "I know, I _know _I'm hideous! I never wanted you to see me like this."

"Hideous?" Haymitch repeated, his charcoal-grey eyes widening. "Trinket, you're not hideous. You're _beautiful. _You know what's hideous? All the other crap you usually have on."

Effie stared back at him. "Haymitch… you really think I'm beautiful?" She waited for him to respond for a few seconds, and then shook her head bitterly. "No. Of course not. I look awful like this, and you're only teasing me."

"I'm not kidding." Haymitch replied.

"But… I can't be beautiful. Not without my makeup."

"Well, where I come from, makeup is really expensive. So no one wears it." Haymitch explained. "To me, the women who look natural are the prettiest. You may think that you need to wear that mask, but I think it makes you look weird."

"Really?" She looked hopeful. Haymitch had never thought of her as self-conscious before.

"Yeah, really."

Effie smiled. "Thank you, Haymitch. You… I never thought I'd say this, but you're so sweet." She got up onto her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. Haymitch took her by the hand and kissed her on the forehead in return.

"You're pretty sweet, too, darling."

Effie wrapped her arms around his neck. Haymitch hefted her up into his arms, as she pressed her lips against his. Still adjusting to her sudden weight in his arms, Haymitch stumbled backward, his back colliding with the wall. He cursed under his breath, and Effie giggled.

"The bedroom is that way, silly." she murmured.

"Sorry, sweetheart." he replied dryly.

xXx

Haymitch woke up under bright pink sheets. When he poked his head out, he found Effie sitting at the end of the bed, watching him. She was already fully dressed, wearing a frilly purple and turquoise dress. On her head was her favourite bubblegum pink wig, and once more, her soft skin was coated with makeup. The victor felt his heart sink.

"Hello there, Sleeping Beauty." Effie greeted him with a smile. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Right." Haymitch mumbled. His mouth felt dry. Seeing the porcelain doll smiling at him now, he wondered if the girl he'd met last night had been only a dream.


	2. The Last One

Effie had been blinded by the events of the night before, but once she'd gotten Haymitch out of her bed and he'd picked up his bottle, she remembered that he had pranked her.

"Damn you, Haymitch Abernathy!" she squeaked to herself, alone in her room, quiet enough that he wouldn't hear her swear. She knew she had to get him back somehow. It was harder playing pranks on Haymitch than it was for him to do so to her, as his mind stayed clever and sharp despite all the alcohol he pumped into it. Knowing this, one part of Effie's plan was made obvious; she had to prank him before he got a chance to fully wake up. He was always incoherent when he first woke up in the morning, whether he was hungover or not.

The second part of Effie's plan was harder- what could she possibly do to faze him? The unfortunate thing about Haymitch was that he honestly didn't give a damn about anything. She wasn't entirely sure what had happened to him in the past that made him so guarded, but it didn't seem like he cared about anything anymore. He just sat with his bottle of liquor, letting it blur his vision more and more until he could no longer see the life leave his tributes' eyes.

"That's it!" gasped Effie suddenly.

"What's it, sweetheart?" she could hear him slurring from the other room.

"Nothing, Haymitch." she called back. Shutting her door, she went back to her scheming.

xXx

Effie waited a few days to enact her plan. Otherwise, he might realize that it was her revenge, no matter how tired he was. So she waited until the morning of the third day of that year's Games. She watched the television from the couch, enjoying the sun's morning rays upon her skin and her mug of coffee. The female tribute from District Twelve had been small, weak, and underfed; probably fourteen at the oldest. She had been killed during the bloodbath, before Haymitch had even finished his first glass of scotch. Their male tribute, however, was miraculously still alive. He wasn't very muscular, and looked like a child next to the huge Career tributes, but he was quick and resourceful. The boy, Jack, had lasted three days already, and Effie had high hopes for him.

Setting down her mug of coffee, the escort got to her feet and went down the hallway to Haymitch's bedroom. Just as she had expected, the victor was sprawled on his bed, fast asleep. Effie carefully removed the knife from his hand before shaking him awake. "Haymitch, Haymitch!" she said loudly, leaning down to speak directly into his ear. "Wake up, you won't believe what just happened!"

Almost a full minute later, his dark grey eyes opened, and Haymitch blinked blearily, trying to focus on her face. "Mm… Trinket? Is that you? Why are you waking me up so early?"

"I'm sorry. But I had to come get you. You won't _believe _what just happened!" It was easy for Effie to feign enthusiasm and excitement. She'd done it thousands of times. Most of those times had involved him.

"What just happened, then?"

"Well, it was Jack. He just ambushed the Career pack!" Effie exclaimed. "He took them all by surprise, Haymitch. He killed three or four of them and still managed to escape!"

This got his attention. "Are you serious?" Haymitch asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes with his sleeve. "He lived? The kid did all that and _lived?_"

"Yes!" Effie squealed, and clasped her hands in front of her chest. Her breath hitched in her throat, and she realized that for a moment, her words had started to really excite her. She had to take a deep breath and remind herself that she was lying.

"Well, damn. Do you think we might have a winner this year, sweetheart?"

"We just might." Effie breathed.

A rare grin spread across Haymitch's face. "That would be nice." he said wistfully. It was then that Effie Trinket realized that she had made a huge mistake. She was leading him on, and she had crossed a line. Still, it was too late to turn back now.

Haymitch got to his feet. He seemed a bit unsteady, so Effie took him by the arm, resting her head on his shoulder. He let her, and even gave her shoulder a quick but affectionate pat. _I'm sorry, Haymitch, _she thought as the two of them went out into the living room.

She had left the television on. Right now, the cameras were focused on Jack, the boy from District Twelve. "There's our superstar." said Haymitch, grinning.

They hadn't taken more than a few steps toward the television when a Career boy thrust his knife right through Jack's heart.

Effie's soft smile immediately dissolved. Her mouth fell open, as her spring-green eyes widened with horror. She tried to speak, but all that came out was a faint exhalation that sounded suspiciously like a sob. She could feel Haymitch's body tense up under her hand, and once she managed to drag her eyes away from the gory scene unfolding on the television, she looked up into his face. Any hint that he had been smiling was gone, and his stormy grey eyes looked as hard as stone once again.

"Haymitch…" Effie whispered quiveringly. The victor didn't reply. He just unlatched his arm from hers and stormed briskly over to the table, where he promptly picked up a glass and filled it with liquor.

Tears filled Effie's eyes. "We were close." she called out to him. "We were _so _close."

"We were close, yeah. But he wasn't a winner." Haymitch hissed, his back still turned to her. "Those just don't come from District Twelve."

"Maybe next year they will."

"No. You know what, Trinket, we'll never have a winner." Haymitch told her harshly, turning around to face her. "I was the last one. There won't be another one from District Twelve. _Ever._"

Effie wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "Oh… Haymitch…"

He returned to his bedroom not long afterward, bringing not only his glass but the entire bottle of whatever he was drinking. Effie sat down on the couch and turned off the television. She had no doubt just ruined whatever bond had formed between the two of them after he'd seen her without her makeup. Even more than that, she had contradicted her earlier statement and gotten him to give a damn about something. It hadn't turned out how she planned it to.

"I'm awful." she whispered to herself. "Just clueless, naive Effie Trinket." That was something he often called her. _Clueless, naive Effie Trinket. _Sometimes it was said in a fond way, but more often than not he used it as an insult.

His scathing words ran through her head once more. _Trinket, we'll never have a winner. I was the last one._

For years, she had been the one who believed in their tributes, the one who chatted with them and made them feel like they had a chance. Because she honestly believed that they _did _have a chance.

Now Effie had no idea what to think.

end


End file.
